


Chase

by lacemonster



Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [12]
Category: DCU, Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Bestiality, Breeding, Double Penetration, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Pheromones, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trans Character, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: After months of being Slade's prisoner, Robin finds a chance to escape. But in order to get to freedom, he'll have to get past Slade's guards.severe content warning, please read tags and warnings before reading
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1181402
Comments: 13
Kudos: 114





	Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freakedelic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/gifts).



> WARNING this fic contains underage rape, bestiality, and kidnapping. Robin is also FtM in this story. If you suspect any of these elements might be upsetting or triggering to you, do not read this story. Any upset comments that did not adhere to warnings/tags will be ignored and deleted.
> 
> I won't say this is the most fucked-up story I've written... but it's probably up there and I'm blaming you Freaks, lmfao. But that being said, I had a sick amount of fun writing this story. Thank you for the sinful prompt. There's no one I would rather share my trash bin with.

The thought of escaping hadn’t crossed Robin’s mind until Slade had planted the seed. He had dreamed of it, of course—there was never a night where he didn’t think of the Teen Titans. Even in his hardened resentment, he still clung to the hope that the Titans were still looking for him, thwarted in their efforts only because Slade kept outsmarting them.

Part of Slade’s strategy in hiding Robin was to keep moving. Robin was bagged when he was brought to this house and knew nothing of the world outside of those walls—where he was, if there were roads to follow, the direction of the nearest town. All he knew was that there was no one around. No one to hear his screams, no one to see him through those unboarded windows. In the few glimpses that Robin stole through the bedroom window, he saw nothing but desert.

The house had two stories. Robin spent most of his time upstairs, barely even recalling what the main level looked like. 

But he did know there was a dog door. 

And that made his mind wander.

When Slade first brought in his pack of dogs, he explained in graphic detail all of the horrible fates that Robin would suffer if he tried to escape. The dogs would bark. They would bite. And if Robin survived, that would be only the beginning of his nightmare.

It should have terrified Robin—and it did. But it also made Robin think about escaping. Sometimes when Robin was leashed upstairs, alone, he would listen. He learned familiar sounds, like the heavy fall of Slade’s footsteps. He also recognized the creaking sounds that followed the clawed, padded steps that clacked along the floors—the dogs had their own way of getting in and out of the house, and with every door and window bolted, Robin could only come to one conclusion:

The very thing that Slade had set up to imprison Robin was his one way to escape.

It was an idea that he had been too terrified to act out. He had many opportunities, after Slade had passed out after a long night of fucking him again and again, leaving him awake and staring at the ceiling. Or when Slade came back from a hunt, heavily injured, releasing Robin from his locked place in the closet to dress his wounds. But all the plots were just that—plots. The ideas had festered in Robin’s mind, bubbling up whenever he heard a bark from outside or that swing of the dog door.

He heard it again. That dog door. He was in the bed, wearing nothing but his collar. His eyes flickered in the direction of the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom. The shower was still running. Slade had left him unleashed. In the past, Slade’s quiet confidence only made him more intimidating—he left Robin unleashed because it didn’t matter, if Robin tried to escape, he would be caught again. But unlike all the other times Slade left him unleashed, Robin felt the temptation to escape. It  _ gnawed _ at him.

He wasn’t thinking. His body just moved of its own accord. He got off the bed—slowly, quietly. Once he stood on both feet, his heart started to race a little faster. The biggest step was just to move of his own volition, to leave the spot that Slade had left him in. The first plunge into defiance. He crept towards the door, carefully listening to the sound of the shower. It was still running when he got to the entryway, giving him another bolster of confidence.

He headed toward the staircase, trying to keep his calm as he walked. No rushed movements, no snailcrawl, just evenly paced walking. It was just walking. Surely he hadn’t forgotten how to do that much, even in all his months of being chained to Slade’s bed or locked inside of his closet.

He was careful on the staircase, which made too much noise. He had been weakened from his time with Slade—his legs felt wobbly as he made his way down the steps. Distantly, he still heard the rush of the shower. When he made it to the bottom landing, he almost sighed in relief.

But then he sucked his breath in when he saw one of the dogs.

The dog was laying right on the rug across from the bottom of the steps. It lifted its head, eyes making contact with Robin.

_ Dogs smell fear,  _ Robin told himself. He didn’t know if that was true, but it felt true as the dog stared at him with intense eyes and perked ears. Robin quickly diverted his eyes, trying to hold his breath and settle his hammering heartbeat. He kept his head up, even as he heard the low growl rumbling in the dog’s throat. He slowly turned toward the kitchen. He was certain that the dog door was connected to the back exit. He walked casually away, ignoring the skip in his heart when he heard the dog getting to its feet, its claws scraping against the wood.

He was passing the dining room now. He could see the tiled floors of the kitchen. If he had time, he could look for Slade’s keys, steal the truck. Maybe he could grab a knife, just in case. He’d be too weak to fight Slade, but maybe—

The dog barked.

Robin took off.

He ran, hearing the dog’s thundering footsteps behind him, its incessant barking growing louder. Robin rounded his way into the kitchen, nearly crashing into a counter. He worked his way around it. He saw the door and sprinted as fast as he could.

Instinctively, he reached and jerked at the doorhandle.  _ No, the dog door, you have to use the dog door— _

He dropped to his knees, heart racing now as he heard the dog getting closer. He pushed the flap forward, shoving himself through one arm at a time, banging his shoulders in the process. If this had been closer to the beginning of his imprisonment, when he still had some semblance of bulk in his arms and shoulders, he might not have ever made it through. But he managed to squeeze his shoulders through, even as the edges dug into his tender skin.

It was a tight fit. He could feel the sides of the dog door digging painfully into his chest, suffocating him. Robin sucked in a breath, trying to push himself through, but got stuck again around his ribcage.

Robin felt something sharp dig into his calf. He yelped, then kicked twice—once to get the dog’s teeth off of him, the other to shove the dog away. Robin never thought himself capable of hurting an animal, but Slade had turned him into someone desperate and cold, and the only feeling he had for Slade’s dogs was deep hatred. 

The sun was beating down on him. Robin placed his hands on the ground, which was baked from the sun. He tried to use the ground as leverage to pull himself further along. His kick seemed to have scared the dog off—there was barking, but no biting.

But then something else grabbed his leg.

Something warm and rough. A hand that Robin would know anywhere. A hand that had beat him, raped him. 

Now, Robin’s terror swelled. His breathing quickened, heartbeat spiked. He flailed, but the hand kept his leg in place. Slade did not pull him in either direction, just kept him held in place. Once Robin had tired from his struggling, he slowed down, waiting, listening, anticipating Slade’s next move—

“Robin, did you forget what I told you about escaping my dogs?” Slade said. His voice was low. Calm. And it was that smoothness, that control, in Slade’s voice that made Robin shiver with terror.

He was an idiot. He could have never outsmarted Slade. 

He was weak. He could have never outrun Slade. 

He was a thousand, a million, useless things and Slade was  _ always _ ahead of him.

It was pointless to have even tried. And all the moments where Robin  _ could _ have escaped but  _ didn’t _ haunted him, not because he would have had a better chance any of those times, but because he never had a chance to begin with.

Slade always won.

“Slade, I’m sorry,” Robin said, trying to restrain the tremble in his voice. He immediately closed his eyes, a wave of shame washing over him. Begging already? His first escape attempt in months, he was only halfway through the door, and already he was pleading for Slade’s mercy?

“You didn’t answer my question. Remember what I told you.”

Robin couldn’t remember anything except the beatings and torture. Slade wanted an answer. Robin willed himself to try to remember—sorting his brain through all of Slade’s most horrible threats. Slade threatening to sic the dogs on him. Slade threatening to feed him to them. Slade threatening—

Robin stopped when he felt Slade’s other hand on his body. Robin mapped the movements of that hand, tracking it as it slid down the crease of his ass, toward his entrance. Robin stiffened when he felt a finger plunge inside of him, with so much ease that it made Robin sick. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the rise of nausea in his throat.

“I distinctly remember telling you that if you ever tried to escape my dogs, that you’d better run fast. Because if they ever caught you, I’d reward them with your ripe cunt.”

Robin groaned behind his closed mouth when Slade plunged another finger in him, pushing down to his knuckles. Robin’s heart started to beat faster. He tried to swallow down his indignation at Slade’s words. There was no point in getting angry at Slade. He was already caught. Now was the time to beg for forgiveness—

But then Slade suddenly pulled his fingers out, just as quickly as he had entered them. Robin was curious at that. Slade was quick to fuck  _ except  _ when it came time to punishing him. Punishing Robin was his playtime.

Sudden heat swelled inside of Robin, making him gasp. It felt like something had burst inside of him, right where Slade’s fingers had been. Something burning hot and wet. The sensation had been short, but it left a tingling sensation in him. His mind raced with confusion.

“You should have ran faster, Robin. I’m disappointed. You would have made a good apprentice. But now you’re nothing but a bitch for my pets.”

“What?” Robin breathed. A realization settled on him—Slade had put something inside of him.

From the other side of the door, he could hear the dog. It was panting loudly. Robin felt its nose nudge against his bare ass and suddenly, it all made sense. All of Slade’s threats came reeling back. Talks about chaining Robin up, injecting him with pheromones, the dogs taking turns fucking his cunt, breeding his pussy, filling him up with their come, knotting inside of him, and all other sorts of horrible threats that had terrified Robin but seemed too outlandish to be true.

But he should have known better.

Only when it involved something sickening, Slade told the truth.

Robin’s stomach sunk with horror when he felt fur brush against his thighs. He had to go. Now. He desperately tried to squirm his way out of the dog door, writhing in place. His ribs ached from hitting up against the sides of the dog door. But despite the pain, despite the hurt, he kept moving, desperate to escape, because anything was better than  _ that. _

Even if he bruised or hurt himself, anything was better than getting fucked by Slade’s dog.

But he barely budged. He managed to get a little further, pushing past his natural waist, but was stopped just above his hips. He could feel the dog following after him, the dog’s hot prick bumping up against his thighs.

Between his thighs.

Panic swelled inside of Robin. He dug his nails into the dirt, trying to anchor his hands into the ground and pull himself through the door—but as much as he clawed and kicked, he couldn’t escape, couldn’t fight. The sheer terror of it all flooded through him. Made him sick and scared and weak. He couldn’t breathe. His body burned hot. His vision wouldn’t focus. He realized he was crying, his eyes wide and burning and tears leaking down his cheeks.

“No,” he begged. It was the last tool of his arsenal. He couldn’t escape and couldn’t fight so he begged and begged and begged instead. “No, please, don’t—“

But it was pointless. He knew it was pointless even as his voice rose higher and higher. Even as his voice broke. There was no way to stop this from happening. He was practically screaming when he felt something prod at his entrance, the tip hot and firm and wet.

“No, no, no—“he cried out. The door groaned repeatedly as it rocked back and forth with his movements. Robin tried to push himself forward using his feet as leverage—but then Slade tugged on his hips, yanking him back—

And pushing the dog’s cock inside of him.

Robin lost his voice halfway into a plea. He went breathless as the dog entered him, the prick searing hot and forcing him open. Robin seized up with shock, his mind going blank. An overwhelming feeling of horror hollowed out his core. 

It was inside him. The filthy thing was inside him.

A choked sob swelled inside of Robin’s throat. Fraction by fraction, the dog moved deeper inside of him. The dog thrust its way inside of him, each movement forcing its cock a little deeper inside. Robin’s breaths were shallow, his body shaking. The dog kept moving deeper, deeper—God, it was disgusting—

Robin felt the dog pressed up against him, the fur pressing into his lower back. It was in all of the way. Without even skipping a beat, the dog took what it wanted. It immediately started to fuck Robin, cock thrusting in and out at a rapid, shallow pace. No, no, Robin couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let an animal fuck him. He clawed and clawed at the ground, to the point where his nails bent and his fingertips bruised. Hot, fresh tears sprang to his eyes. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening. All of the tragedies and traumas he had faced in his life never prepared him for this. This humiliation, this degradation. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

The dog’s cock was searing hot and sweaty and thick. It plunged into Robin repeatedly, stretching him out. It hurt, it was uncomfortable, it was terrible, but it didn’t matter. The dog didn’t care. The dog only cared about fucking Robin, about breeding him and filling him up with pups. The dog didn’t slow, fucking into him with the sort of desperation and urgency that animals had when they fucked.

Robin choked out a sob. The friction of their fucking was beginning to overwhelm him. His body felt so hot, so full. He moved his legs, trying everything to stop this, trying to kick the dog off or close his legs. But Slade anchored him in place, holding him there while his dog fucked Robin, the fur brushing up against Robin’s lower back and ass as the dog continually rutted into him.

“No, no, no,” Robin begged repeatedly, voice breaking with his sobs. He couldn’t hold back his emotions anymore. He was a mess. His eyes blurred with tears. His nose leaked. He couldn’t focus anymore. All his mind locked onto was the shame and the humiliation and the pain of being mounted like a bitch.

Robin’s breathing grew ragged the longer the dog went on. Against his will, Robin could feel himself getting wet. His face burned with humiliation at the sounds of his body being used, the dog’s member repeatedly plunging into his wet hole, each thrust drawing a noise. The dog now slid into him easier, fucked him faster. Robin held back a whimper, his chest twisting with shame.

“Wet already? You slut,” Slade mocked, his voice barely audible from the other side of the thumping door. Robin’s fists tightened when he felt Slade grab at his sex, his thick finger slipping between his folds. Robin gasped at the hot spark of pleasure that raced through him.

Slade continued to rub at him. He didn’t do this for Robin’s pleasure. He barely did it for his own. This was all a part of his entertainment—he wanted to see Robin squirm, and as much as Robin tried to resist giving him that satisfaction, he could not. He tried to pull his legs tighter together, but that only trapped Slade and the dog against his body.

His heart raced with panic. No, he didn’t want to like this, he didn’t. But the more Slade rubbed him, the more heat raced through his body. And it wasn’t just Slade’s actions that aroused Robin, as hard as it was to admit. The dog’s repeated thrusts started to feel good too—that constant pounding, the heat and stretch of the animal’s prick. Robin couldn’t resist a moan, his thighs shaking. He wanted to roll his body into the touch, wanted more of Slade’s hand, more of the cock inside of him. It was fucked up and wrong but the fiery pleasure in his body was his only relief from his living hell. If he just submitted to Slade’s touch, if he just allowed himself to feel pleasure and not worry about his pride—

Slade removed his hand and Robin found himself suppressing a whine. He hated himself for missing Slade’s touch. But just as soon as Slade had removed his hand, Robin could feel himself being touched again.

“Slade,” Robin tried to protest, his voice breathy and weak. But even if Slade could hear him, he didn’t care. His finger, wet from playing with Robin, slid down the crease of his ass. Robin could already predict where this was heading. His eyes welled up with tears. “Slade, no—“

Slade pushed his finger into Robin’s ass. Robin whined at the penetration. He felt impossibly full—the dog ravaging him while Slade entered his ass. Robin grunted as Slade shoved his finger in all the way, down to the knuckle. Robin should have been used to Slade in his ass, but he never quite did. There was always a level of discomfort whenever Slade put something in his ass, even if Robin had been opened up the night before and the night before that.

He could feel the dog moving faster, faster. Panic swelled inside of Robin’s chest. He didn’t like the frantic, erratic way the dog fucked him. Its desperate, careless movements felt familiar. A horrific realization settled on him—this dog was going to finish inside him. He was going to fill him with his seed. Worse than that, Dick knew what would happen if this dog finished inside of him—

He was going to knot.

The fear sprang Dick back to life. Dick pulled himself along the ground, using his feet as leverage to shove himself through the dog door.

His heart leapt inside his chest when he felt himself inch forward. His body was supple from his sweat, guiding him through. The sides of the door dug into his hips painfully, but one more push—

Once Robin pushed past the widest part of his hips, he fell forward into the dirt. The dog hit the door with a bang and was forced off him. Robin quickly crawled forward, banging his knee on the very bottom of the doorframe. Pain throbbed in his leg—he didn’t care. He got to his feet as quickly as he could and just ran.

There was nothing but desert. He knew he had nowhere to go, that he was rushing off into unknown territory without any clothes, much less tools. It didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than there. At least out in the desert, he could figure it out—at least he had a  _ chance _ —

A feeling of exhilaration rushed through him, pumping through his heart, making his head light. For a moment, there was a feeling of freedom. He couldn’t remember the last time he used his body for running—for anything that wasn’t meant to please Slade. He didn’t hear Slade or the dog chase after him and that made him feel hopeful again. Every pounding of his bare feet against the earth, every sweep of the wind in his hair—he was free, and if he could just get off this property, if he could just get out there, he could go home, he could go to his friends—

About halfway to the fence that squared off the property, Robin heard a loud  _ bzzt _ . He instinctively looked back.

There was a barred-off area that Robin had never noticed, out of sight from the windows. Robin did a double-take, his stomach sinking when he realized that he was being chased. 

Not by Slade—but by his dogs.

Slade had more dogs than Robin was ever aware of—and they all came running, funneling out of the open gate of their kennel, chasing after him. Robin’s breath quickened. He pumped his legs faster, racing as fast as he could, his vision narrowing in on that fence. On freedom.

But he didn’t stand a chance.

He never did.

He tripped in the hard dirt, choking on the cloud of dust that rose from his fall. He moved to get up, that damn knee throbbing in pain—but just as quickly as he got up, he was knocked back down. 

Everything happened in a rush. All around him were the dogs. He heard nothing but their panting breaths, excited and rapid and heavy. They trampled over his body, over each other. In the flurry of moving bodies, Robin looked up, only to see a dog’s erection hanging over him, red and pointing and angry—they were all like that, he realized—

Terror rushed through him. He was tired, exhausted, but tried to fight back anyways. He tried to sweep them away, tried to push himself off the ground—but there was too much weight on him, claws digging painfully into his back. Robin hadn’t felt that small and weak since the day that Slade captured him. He heard a growl somewhere in the roar of noise—the dogs were fighting over him, he realized with horror. Another sob rose up in Robin’s voice—he never felt so dehumanized before. Beasts were fighting for their right to mate with him.

Robin was jerked out of his fight when he felt something hot poke up against his lower back. Robin tried to crawl away but there were too many moving bodies, animals fighting on top of him while a dog slipped in behind him, taking him when none of the others were looking.

“Get off!” Robin said. He could barely get the words out, he was so out of breath.

The dog did not understand. Did not care. It acted on its animal instinct, mounting on top of Robin, its cock poking up against his crease. When it nudged against Robin’s ass, Robin panicked.

_ Not there, _ he thought. He didn’t want the animal inside him at all, but just imagining the pain of it entering his ass—

The dog was smaller compared to the others, but Robin was still unprepared, even after Slade’s fingering. Robin yelled as the dog began to enter his ass. In his desperation, Robin felt a resurgence of energy. He used all of his strength to push himself off the ground. There was a dog on Robin’s back that was forced to slide off, releasing that weight. But the dog inside of Robin’s ass held on, inching along with Robin every time he moved, persistently keeping its cock inside of Robin.

Robin’s knees burned as he tried to crawl forward in the hard sand and dirt. He lifted a hand to push a dog out of his path, but that only resulted in him losing his balance, his upper half collapsing into the ground. The dog inside of his ass thrust forward and Robin cried out. The widest part of the dog’s shaft was now inside of him, stretching out his dry, unprepped ass. Robin hissed and clenched his fists as the pain. He was uncomfortably full, the animal splitting him in half.

Robin was out of energy already. He laid in the dust and cried with frustration and pain as the dog began to fuck him earnestly, thrusting fast and deep into his ass. All the while, the dogs were still moving around and over him. He could feel their noses and tongues nudge against his thighs, seeking out the pheromones. 

Robin felt the dog behind him rubbing up against his lower back, its sweat-matted fur rubbing up against his skin. It took a moment for him to process what its incessant nudging meant—it was as if the dog was trying to get over his raised ass. That was when Robin realized it wasn’t trying to climb over him at all—the small dog was getting  _ pushed _ on top of him. Robin looked over his shoulder—past the small dog’s face that was looking at him, panting and tongue lolling, to a much bigger, taller dog behind him.

“No,” Robin said, eyes widening with horror. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, it did.

The bigger dog mounted Robin, sandwiching the smaller dog between them. Robin was crushed by the weight of both dogs on top of him, effectively pinned back to the ground, his chest crushed, his face dug into the dirt.

“Stop! Get off!” Robin tried to yell, only breathing in dust.

The bigger dog blindly poked at him with his cock, eventually finding Robin’s remaining entrance. Robin screamed as both of his holes were filled.

There was no time to breathe or adjust. The bigger dog immediately started to fuck into him, every thrust nudging the smaller dog into him. Robin twisted and writhed underneath them, but could barely budge, simply digging himself deeper into the rocks and dirt. 

It was unbearable. The bigger dog was unbelievably thick and searing hot, stretching out his hole. With every thrust, it felt like it was splitting Robin open. He felt impossibly full, filled with a dog’s cock in each entrance, both of them rubbing up against his walls.

The pace was relentless. In the mix of animal noises, Robin could hear the endless sounds of his body being used. His entire lower body felt burning hot. He could feel his sex growing wetter, letting the dog slide into him faster, faster. And the faster that the dog moved, the more pressure he felt against his sensitive walls, the more heat built up, the more friction. He could feel his sex swelling with arousal, pleasure racing down his spine.

Robin squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to resist it. But as he was forcefully planted into the ground, fucked brutally in both of his holes, all of Slade’s training began to haunt him. He could feel his body reacting. His legs forcefully spread as he was fucked into, his sex throbbing, his nipples growing hard, his head hazy. It felt good. He hated it, but it felt good.

He was moaning, he realized. In little whimpers and whines, there was pleasure in his voice. His breath was quickening, body burning. He moaned and moaned as the dogs fucked into both of his holes in their individual rhythms, driving into him again and again, one at a time, simultaneously, at every angle. 

His skin crawled. His toes curled. His body suddenly seized up, the breath stolen from him, and then—a rush of pleasure raced through him, heat dropping down into his groin. He yelled as he came, his holes tightening up around the cocks inside of him. His whole body trembled and trembled.

The bigger dog kept fucking his soaking wet hole even after he came. Robin gave a strangled cry as the dog pounded him through his orgasm. His head felt fuzzy. It was difficult to focus. There were too many sensations at once.

He almost didn’t notice the flood of seed in his ass. He eventually became aware of the dog’s cock twitching and pulsing inside of him as it left its mark. Robin felt a twinge of pain and that’s what shocked him into reality. He felt something swell up inside of him, stretching his ass to its brink.

Oh God, it knotted him, it actually knotted him—

Robin wanted to escape, but he couldn’t, the dog had knotted in him and the bigger dog just kept fucking and fucking—

Robin’s eyes rolled back. He couldn’t take much more of this abuse. He wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling. Distantly, he noticed a shadow fall over him. Robin couldn’t crane his head back far enough to take a look, but he already knew, recognizing the boot that planted into the dirt behind him.

All at once, emotion swelled up inside of Robin. He imagined how he must of looked, lying in the dirt, a dog’s knot in his ass, another dog fucking his wet, used hole.

“Slade, I’m sorry,” he managed to sob. A weak hand crawled to rest on top of the man’s boot. Slade was motionless, just standing there and watching him. That only made Robin feel worse. Tears streamed down his flushed face. His hands wrapped around Slade’s ankle, desperately holding onto him. “Slade, I’m so sorry, make it stop.  _ Please. _ ”

All he could do was beg and cry and apologize. The more he realized how pathetic he sounded, the more desperate he became, his sobs wracking through his body. His words spluttering together. He kissed the top of Slade’s foot. Licked the dust-covered surface of his boot. Anything to prove his fealty. Anything to make this stop.

When he ran out of words to say, all he could do was sob and kiss at the toe of Slade’s boot. Slade remained silent, and for a moment, Robin saw hope in that. Maybe Slade was thinking it over. He didn’t  _ actually  _ want to share Robin with his dogs, did he?

“Slade?” Robin asked, his voice weak, when Slade stepped back, boot leaving Robin’s grasp. Robin started to panic. “Slade, don’t leave me—“

Slade kicked him across the face. Hot pain spread across his cheek, his mouth tasted blood. The kick had so much force that Robin felt his brain rattle.

He almost started crying again, but the pain had stunned him. His vision flashed and blurred. He couldn’t think. His mind returned when he felt something dig into his back, crushing him into the dirt. Slade had his weight on top of him, his boot pinning him to the ground.

Robin didn’t beg. He was too afraid. Pain throbbed in his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He choked back his tears, afraid to show any emotion now, lest he get hit again.

He stayed there, biting down on his lip to hold back any sounds as the bigger dog continued to thrust into him. The movements were quick, Robin realized. It plunged in and out of his wet hole over and over again, thrusting with the intent to knot him. Robin’s face scrunched up with shame. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the feeling of the dog’s come gushing inside of him. Hot and thick, flooding his walls. The dog’s knot swelled up inside of him, locking up all of the seed inside of him.

Robin didn’t know how long he was there for. Eventually, after the smaller dog’s knot had passed, it was lifted off of him. Its ejaculate ran down Robin’s crease, making him shudder. Then finally, the bigger dog was pulled off as well.

Once Robin was freed, there was movement again. Robin heard a yelp, followed by a dog falling into the dirt. It had been kicked away, Robin realized, only after Slade had forcefully yanked him off the ground. That got the rest of the dogs to stop fighting, a few circling them at a safe distance, but none daring to get past Slade.

Robin stumbled. There was no strength in his legs. His thighs ached from being forcefully spread open. His knees burned from being on the hard ground. He felt a trickle of the dog’s come drip down his thighs, mixing with the sweat, making him sticky.

Robin felt hollow after all his crying. His eyes were sore. His face covered in dirt and dust and tears and sweat and blood. 

“Go,” Slade said, shoving him forward a step.

Robin caught himself from falling. Not wanting to risk being tossed to the ground, he walked. He glanced backwards. The dogs were still following his scent—getting close, but not too close, afraid of Slade’s reproach.

They were afraid in the same way that Robin was afraid.

Robin kept walking. Away from the fence, away from freedom. When he turned back to that cursed door, ready to be sealed back into imprisonment once again, Slade suddenly said something that made him stop.

“Where are you going?”

Robin froze.

His mind searched frantically for the answer. This was another one of Slade’s trick questions, where Robin didn’t like the correct answer but the wrong answer led to an even worse punishment. He finally turned to face Slade, looking up at him with big, imploring eyes.

“Back to the house,” Robin said, but his words were more of a guess than an answer.

Slade just looked at him, his face hard.

“Bitches sleep in the kennel,” Slade said.

Robin’s heart sank. He slowly turned, his eyes falling on the big metal cage behind the house. He looked back at Slade.

“Slade—“Robin said, and just when he thought he couldn’t cry anymore, his eyes welled with tears.

Slade was never going to listen to anything he had to say anyways. He grabbed Robin and shoved him in the direction of the kennel. Robin went, but his steps were slow, each stride making him feel more and more dreadful. No, he didn’t want this. He couldn’t go in there. But more than he dreaded the cage, he dreaded what Slade would do to him.

Robin was forced into the corner as the dogs rushed in after him. He kept his back facing the cage as the dogs tried to jump on him and nipped at his ankles. Robin shivered when he heard the sound of the metal gate close.

Slade went to Robin’s corner, standing on the other side of the cage. Robin turned his head, both of them locking gazes. Robin was trembling under his watchful eye. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Would any amount of begging save him? Was there anything decent enough, human enough, in Slade that could save him?

“Come here,” Slade said, voice low and calm. His fingers slipped between the links of the cage. Robin didn’t understand, but he obeyed, his face pressing into the metal as he ducked down to meet Slade’s hand.

Slade hooked Robin by the collar. Robin made a small whimper as he felt the collar tug against his throat, but did not dare complain. Slade reached for something on the ground behind him. A chain, Robin realized. Fear started to fill him once again. He couldn’t stand idly by, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to fight. He was shaking when he felt Slade lock the chain to the padlock on his collar.

But it wasn’t until Slade kneeled, dragging Robin down with him, that Robin started to panic.

“Slade—Slade, no—“

Slade wasn’t listening. He wrapped the chain through the bottom links of the cage. Robin started to cry again.

“Master, I’ll do anything, please stop—“

Slade took the end of the chain and hooked it to the anchor in the sparse grass outside of the cage. Slade stood up, surveying his work. Because of the low angle of the leash, Robin was forced on his hands and knees, lest he choke himself.

He was forced to the same level as the dogs.

Already, Robin could hear the dogs fighting. Snarling and snapping at each other. He shook in place as one of the dogs got on top of him, but then it was forcefully dragged off by another, the dogs crashing into his haunches as they fought.

Slade took one look at him and walked off, Robin’s screams and pleas drowned out by the sounds of barking.

Slade returned at sunrise.

Robin woke up with a dog knotted deeply inside of him. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but he was roused by the sound of Slade’s footsteps. His body ached with exhaustion, his thighs chafed from his long night of being covered with sweat and come. He looked a mess, but was too tired to feel shame.

Slade stopped at the end of the cage. Robin’s eyes drifted up and he came back to life when he saw the water bottle in Slade’s hand.

His heart started to race. He moved his lips, but they were too dry. His throat too parched. He had spent an entire night in a metal cage in a desert. He couldn’t think about anything but water. He immediately rose to his knees the best he could, the leash and the dog’s knot preventing him from moving far.

“Slade,” he said weakly, barely able to get the name out in one syllable. He craned his neck back to look at Slade imploringly.

Slade crouched down. Robin looked at him through sweatsoaked hair, anticipating his next move. Slade looked at him good and hard before nodding at him.

“I see they stuffed you full of pups,” Slade said.

Robin suddenly felt highly aware of his swollen stomach. The dogs had taken him, one by one, over and over, until they all passed out. The night had blurred for Robin. He lost track of when everything began and ended, lost track of the moment he had lost consciousness. He could see now that the dogs had probably even used him in his sleep, keeping him knotted and full of their come. His belly had extended from the copious amount of seed in him.

Robin wasn’t even phased by Slade’s words. All he could focus on was his parched throat. He simply stayed there on his hands and knees, waiting expectantly.

He felt the first drip on his head. He immediately tilted his head back, nearly getting the next drop in his eye. Slade tipped the nozzle through the links of the kennel, letting it drizzle down. Robin immediately opened his mouth, trying to catch the stream. Lapping at it. The water was cold, crisp. Robin had never loved the taste of water as much as he did in that moment.

Slade pushed the bottle the rest of the way through the link. Some of it splashed on Robin’s face as it came falling down. Robin immediately grabbed the bottle after it landed, but it had already spilled. Robin’s eyes travelled down at the puddle on the ground.

He felt Slade watching him. For a moment, there was a flicker of resistance. But as he watched the edges of the shallow puddle begin to seep into the ground, he found himself ducking his head anyways, lapping the water into his mouth.

Slade chortled. It brought a pang to Robin’s heart, but he forced himself to ignore it, focusing only on taking his drink. On his survival.

“That’s a good bitch,” he heard distantly. And he blocked that out too.


End file.
